


hold me, feel my heart beat

by pirateygoodness



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fingerfucking, Friends With Benefits, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobbi's got energy to burn. Hartley's got her covered. Florence is a beautiful city. </p><p>Set in a time prior to <em>Agents of SHIELD</em> canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me, feel my heart beat

Bobbi’s got energy to burn. 

She’s a real agent now, has been for almost a year, and that means she’s supposed to be professional. Like Agent Hartley, like Agent Coulson - calm in the face of anything. She’s getting better about handling that post-mission adrenaline rush, but she can't keep herself from feeling it. Usually, she only needs to handle it until she gets back to base, and then there’s showers and a gym where she can run and run until it’s all out of her system. 

This time, though, she's stuck in Florence, in a SHIELD safehouse underneath the Basilica San Miniato Al Monte. It's not a bad space - safe, tucked away underground while the space above them is crawling with tourists. It's a good spot to lie low while their extraction team catches up to them. But it's _two days_ until their team's ETA, and that's the problem. Bobbi gets it, she does. It’s not like SHIELD can land a Quinjet in the middle of the Piazzale Michelangelo. But she’s just - 

“Stop it,” Hartley says. She’s resting on the bed, reading the only book in here (a beat-up copy of _The Da Vinci Code,_ with countless annotations from exasperated spies over the years). To the untrained eye, she looks calm, but Bobbi knows her well enough to catch the way her ankle is bobbing up and down, giving her away.

“What?”

Hartley nods in Bobbi’s direction. “You’re pacing. It’s making me dizzy.” 

Bobbi stops, but it's an effort. She _is_ pacing, and twirling her batons in both hands, back and forth, while she moves along the far wall of their safe house. She puts her batons together in her left hand, keeping them still, and plants her right hand flat against her thigh for good measure. "Sorry," she says. "I've just got a lot of - I mean, that was exciting, right? How many times do you get to avert an assassination attempt like that, and I _finally_ nailed the jump out of that jet, and -”

Hartley chuckles, setting her book down. "You're cute." 

"I am not."

"Sure you are," she says. "All young, and wide-eyed." 

Bobbi flips her off. It’s a little insubordinate, but she’s worked with Hartley enough times to know where the boundaries are. "I'm twenty-five, _ma'am_."

Hartley laughs again. It sounds deeper, this time, rougher around the edges. She sits up, her back against the wall, one knee hanging over the side of the mattress. "Ma'am?" she drawls. "Come here and say that." 

Bobbi looks her over. She's still Hartley - strong arms and that crooked smile that always makes Bobbi's heart beat a little faster, sprawled across the bed like she owns it. But there's something in her eyes that Bobbi's never seen before. Her body language is calm, but she's watching Bobbi a bit too carefully to just be making small talk. 

"You first," Bobbi says. It's childish, and not particularly clever, but she's not saying it to be clever. She's saying it to watch for the way Hartley's pupils dilate, the way she licks her lips as she leans forward. 

It hadn't occurred to Bobbi that Hartley had energy to burn, too. 

Hartley shifts on the bed, angling her body weight forward into a stance that's ready to move. She smiles, and the sight of it makes all of Bobbi's extra energy settle right between her legs, sudden and achy. The air around them feels different, somehow, warm and thick and humming with whatever’s happening right now. 

When Hartley speaks, it’s rough and full of promise. “You sure about that, kid?"

It's the nickname that does it. Hartley's been calling her _kid_ since they first started working together - at first testing, then affectionate. Sometimes it drives Bobbi crazy, but right now - right now, it sounds like a challenge. Bobbi hears her batons fall to the floor with a clatter as she flexes her fingers. "Why don't you find out?"

Hartley launches herself across the room first, but Bobbi meets her halfway. They crash into each other like they're sparring, arms bracing for impact, and for a minute, Bobbi wonders if she read this wrong from the start. But then Hartley's got a hand in her hair and she's pulling her in and they're kissing - _fuck_ , they’re kissing. 

It's rough, almost competitive, all teeth and hot breath and neither one of them willing to given an inch. Hartley bites her lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood, and Bobbi pulls back with a start and a breathy little _oh_. Hartley chuckles. "You alright?" she asks. Her arms are strong around Bobbi's back and her eyes are half-wild, pupils dark with lust. 

Bobbi's just - she's alright. Probably. She's _keyed up_ , adrenaline humming under her skin and she suddenly needs this so much that she can hardly put it into words. She feels liquid between her thighs, and every brush of Hartley against her skin feels like it gets her even hotter, slicker. "Yeah," she huffs, trying to sound more collected than she feels. "Yeah, I just - this was a good idea." 

"Yeah?" Hartley says, and leans down to nip at Bobbi's throat. She smells like sweat and gunpowder, skin warm from the heat and from the mission and from _this_ , and _wow_ is it ever working for Bobbi. She clutches at Hartley's back, suddenly needy but too far gone to care. 

" _Yeah_ ," she whimpers, pleading. 

Hartley chuckles, and they’re pressed so close together that Bobbi feels it against her skin, low and rumbly. She shudders, clutches at Hartley’s back again. 

Hartley pulls her in for a kiss, short and bruising and fierce and Bobbi can’t stand it any longer, she needs _more_. She moves her hands to tug at the buttons on Hartley’s shirt - not hard enough to pop them, but enough to send a message. Hartley gets it, and starts undressing.

Bobbi takes the opportunity to work at her own clothing, but of _course_ Hartley gets to wear a shirt and jeans while Bobbi’s in her tactical suit. Her fingers are shaky, fumbling and there are so many goddamn _zippers_ \- but she manages, Bobbi slipping out of the top and the harness for her staves and halfway out of her trousers by the time Hartley’s done with her shirt. 

Hartley looks up from her shirt and catches sight of Bobbi - mostly down to her bra and underwear, trousers undone and staring angrily at the zippers to her boots. She hears Hartley's breath catch, watches as her cheeks go pink, like maybe Bobbi’s having a bit of an effect on her. The thought gives her a little thrill of pride. 

“Easy, now,” Hartley says. She reaches out, taking Bobbi by the shoulder and nodding to her boots. 

It gives Bobbi something to lean against, so that she can stand on one leg and lift the other up to undo one boot, then the other. Once she’s stepped out of them, her trousers come off, and she's down to her underwear. Hartley starts working at her jeans and Bobbi takes a minute because _oh_ , they’re actually doing this. 

She’d never really thought about the idea of Hartley under her clothes - not in anything but the abstract - but it’s a sight. Her body looks strong and soft all at once, skin criss-crossed with scars that make a map across her shoulders, her arms, her belly. Bobbi suddenly wants to touch her all over. She reaches out, runs a hand down Hartley’s arm and watches the goosebumps rise up, fascinated. She moves her touch lower, tracing the curve of Hartley's breasts through her sports bra and moving down to her belly. There's extra softness there, but when Bobbi's hand skims the edge of Hartley's underwear her breath catches and the muscles underneath tense up, firm against her fingertips. 

Hartley wraps arms around her back, distracting Bobbi enough that she looks up. Once she does, she realizes that Hartley's staring at her right back, eyes fixed on a point somewhere between her breasts. Her tongue flicks out, wetting her lower lip and something about the sight of that just _works_ for Bobbi. She ducks forward and takes Hartley's lower lip between her own, sucking gently and dragging her teeth across it. She's rewarded with a groan.

“Someone’s eager,” Hartley says, but it comes out like a whisper, more feminine than Bobbi would’ve expected. 

“Yeah?” Bobbi says. “What are you going to do about it?” 

What Hartley does about it is steer them both towards the bed. They half-trip onto it, Hartley on her back and Bobbi straddling her. Hartley looks her up and down, this crooked smile on her face that makes Bobbi clench. Her whole body feels like it’s saying _please_ , starting from her cunt outward. Her skin is on fire, oversensitive everywhere she's making contact with bare skin and Hartley just needs to _touch her_. 

“Come on,” she murmurs, grinding her hips against Hartley’s belly and maybe she didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

“Come on and what?” Hartley asks, but her palm is cupping Bobbi through her underwear like she already knows the answer. Bobbi can’t help it - her hips jerk against Hartley’s hand, and she whimpers. Hartley reaches up with her free hand, brushes it across Bobbi’s cheek until she focuses, looks right at her. “Hey,” she says. “Don’t go falling in love with me, kid.” 

Bobbi’s so far gone, but not far enough to ignore something like that. She rolls her eyes, both at the reminder and at the nickname. “I know better,” she says. “And you’re not _that_ good,” she adds, pushing her luck a little. 

Hartley tilts her head back and laughs. Bobbi starts to chuckle, too, but then the hand Hartley’s got between her legs _moves_ and her brain just about short circuits. Hartley’s got two fingertips against her clit, slipping back and forth and Bobbi’s thoughts narrow to _yes_ and _more_ and experiencing her touch. She feels like she’s been waiting for this for hours. 

Her eyes slip shut, because looking and feeling at the same time is too much. She groans, rolling her hips forward, inviting better access. The next thing she notices is touch at her entrance and then fingers sliding home, one and then more and then just the right amount to fill her up. She sinks down, taking Hartley as far as she can and leaning back. The angle is _perfect_ , this all feels perfect, it's everything she needs. 

She hears rustling and a sigh from below her and opens her eyes just long enough to catch sight of Hartley’s free hand between her own legs, rubbing herself off and that’s - _fuck_ , that’s something she’ll remember for a while. She clenches around Hartley’s hand and moans, shifting so that she can press her knee up against Hartley’s groin, give her something to move against. 

Hartley’s gaze flicks upward to Bobbi’s face and suddenly they’re looking each other in the eye and it’s hotter than Bobbi would have thought. She rolls her hips, fucking herself on Hartley’s hand and she’s so close, she’s so _almost_ \- and then she’s _there_ , her orgasm shuddery and loud as she soaks Hartley's hand down to the wrist. Hartley lets her ride it out, curling her fingers to milk every last aftershock until Bobbi’s spent. She feels boneless, heavy and dreamy and so afterglowy that she almost misses watching Hartley come, a shout and then silence as she shudders against her own hand. 

She doesn't have energy to burn anymore, that's for sure. Instead, she feels _sated_ as she rolls off of Hartley, repositions her underwear a little. 

"Thanks," Bobbi huffs, exhausted. 

“Yeah,” Hartley says. She sounds just as breathless, and Bobbi turns to look at her. It’s a sight, the woman she trusts with her life and then some, looking undone like this. Her hair is all tousled, her cheeks pink in a way that’s unmistakably from arousal. Hartley reaches over to ruffle Bobbi’s hair, grinning the same way she does after a fight. "What are friends for, right?"


End file.
